


In Ink

by Catchinglikekerosene



Series: Requests and Drabbles [11]
Category: Open Heart (Visual Novels)
Genre: Boss/Employee Relationship, F/M, Tattoos
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:55:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26864740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchinglikekerosene/pseuds/Catchinglikekerosene
Summary: Becca has tattoos devoted to those she loves peppered over her body, after the incident Ethan starts to wonder if he could make the same commitment. This takes place after the car scene in OHSY Chapter 12.
Relationships: Ethan Ramsey/Main Character (Open Heart)
Series: Requests and Drabbles [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1828768
Kudos: 11





	In Ink

The rain continued to cascade down on the bleak outside world, shedding tears on top of a somber Boston along with all the tears they couldn’t fight any more. With it, expelling all the emotions the two weren’t ready to confront. 

Ethan and Becca had snuck from the blissful embrace of his sedan and into her bedroom while her roommates decompressed from the memorial service in their rooms. The pumpkin-shaped lights that hung above Becca’s queen-sized bed were a stark contrast to the rest of the world. The two bare lovers basked in the lustful golden glow. Disheveled sheets tangled beside them, pillows and black clothing strewn across the floor. 

Ethan sat devotedly at the foot of her bed with Becca’s legs resting on his lap. His large, calloused fingers trailing, caressing, up and down her olive skin; the tone muted from weeks holed up inside without feeling the sun’s rays. Ethan’s eyes silently appreciated the soft skin of her calf, and the near-invisible hairs above her knee where she neglected to shave earlier that day. His eyes roamed up her body in tandem with his hands, raking over her full form. He drank every part of her in; the patch of darkened curly hair masking her sweet core, the faint white stretch marks at her hips and breasts, the steady rise and fall of her chest - all of these little signs that she was, in fact, full of life. 

Ethan turned his adoring attention back to her slender legs. He massaged her calves and toes, reveling in the new, pleasurable moans that escaped her swollen lips. These moans were different from the ones he’d heard moments before. These moans were long, gentle and relaxed. A satisfactory smirk adorned his lips at how responsive she is to his touch. 

As his eyes trailed behind his hands, he stumbled on fresh ink at her ankle. 

“I haven’t seen this one before,” he mused, his forehead creasing as his thumb graced over the small tattoo.

Becca hesitantly knotted her fingers together where they languidly laid above her head, before placing them protectively over her stomach. She stared at the ceiling deep in thought, not wanting to fully explain to him the meaning behind her third tattoo, it was sure to ruin their newfound felicity. The silence between them since the car was comfortable and filled with appreciative kisses and carnal sighs. The moments after have been domestic and what they’ve always wished.

She turned her attention to her textured nails, picking at her cuticles. Becca’s hesitation filled the room with palpable uncertainty. 

She shut her eyes, muttering in a low voice, “I got it when you were… away…” 

Ethan stopped in place, the memory of his abrupt two-month sabbatical washing over them both. His back went flat as a board and shoulders rigid, his attention fixed on the ink and not daring to meet her presumably icy gaze. 

Becca continued, “When my grandma died.” The soft words stung to his center, adding to Ethan’s already immense guilt. 

They hadn’t spoken of his time in the Amazon since that all too short evening at Donahue’s when he firmly drew their barriers. He had abandoned her. For a second time. He had missed  _ so much _ and wasn’t there when a dear relative of her’s passed. He wasn’t a good friend. For months he chose not to be there for her in order to protect her career and reputation. 

Ethan’s guilt was exhibited all over his features and Becca could hear the self-deprecating rant he was reciting to himself. She rubbed her foot against the smooth underside of his forearm, bringing him back to her. Their eyes met, speaking volumes as the two pushed past the tension. 

_ It was in the past. _

He inspected the small ink further. 

On the inside of her left ankle, just above the joint, lived a small forest green turtle with a simplistic red and white clown face stamped along its shell like paint. 

Ethan’s brows furrowed, more in surprise than in criticism, “Why is there a clown on its back?” 

“ _ Symbolism _ .” 

He raised another questioning brow in response. 

Becca removed her legs from his hold to sit up and cross them underneath her. She ran her fingers over the mark as she began telling the story behind the act of allegiance. 

“Her and my grandpa were in the shriners - it's a club or something, I don’t really know. But his group’s mascot was a clown and hers was a turtle.” Becca shrugged, hoping Ethan had enough context before revealing her rationale. “Anita had a collection of lovely expensive turtle brooches and so many -  _ hundreds _ \- of clowns scattered throughout the house.” 

A small smirk appeared at the corners of her lips as she thought about her crazy, favorite family member and all the knick knacks scattered across the three-story home. Just as quickly as it arrived, the smile faltered as the spoiled recollection of all the dreadful things she didn’t know about her grandma until later in life rolled through her mind. 

Becca paused before following with the reason the clown was being carried on the back of the turtle. 

“She devoted her life to serving the man she fiercely loved. And when he scorned her she was a force to be reckoned with.” Her words hung in the air, as the meaning settled. Ethan’s cloudy eyes intently watching her movements. Becca’s nail traced the shell of the turtle as she solidified her grandmother’s memory, “She did so much to help the community. She was amazing.” 

Ethan reached over to replace her fingers hovering over the ink as he took the meaning she was subtly trying to hide from him. His fingers lightly grasped her right wrist as his other hand untangled her limbs before leaning down to place a persistent kiss to her ankle. 

His reddened lips then moved to place one to the simple, black script ‘ _ Extraordinary _ ’ tattoo at her right wrist; her first tattoo and a reminder that she was capable of anything. Becca’s breath hitched as he lingered there just a bit longer. 

Then he tugged her closer, enough to place another parted peck behind her left ear over the dainty sunflower with a resting ladybug; the faint ink behind her ear he knew symbolized her maternal grandmother and their beloved family dog, Lady. 

With each and every touch of his lips to her balmy skin, Ethan was trying to meld his devotion with her bold claims of unyielding and endless love for those closest to her. 

His lips remained near her ear, his forehead pressing against her temple. He reveled in the natural smell of her glistening skin mixing with the notes of mandarin blossom and orange of her perfume and the crisp apples of her shampoo. Ethan took her tangled hands in his and wound their fingers together. The two lovers huddled together in a bare embrace, showing all their insecurities and vulnerabilities for the other to ogle. 

Becca wears her heart on display for all to admire, it was exquisite. She’s not afraid to love and show it fiercely. While Ethan struggles to accept his own sentiments. 

So much has happened in the last week; between the assassination attempt, the memorial, their admission. During this time Ethan contemplated the fragility of life. His inability to commit. Nothing seemed as big or as important as the woman next to him. The woman who’s bare skin glowed under his touch, who breathed life into him just from her small smile. Here and now he couldn’t fathom anything other than his Rebecca. Earlier, he found the courage to pour his heart out for once in his life - he let her know how affected he has been by her and the whole debacle that forced his hand. 

He told her how much he…  _ cares _ for her. 

As he kept her close, reassuring himself that she was in fact alive and here with him, Ethan wondered a cruel thought: If she had died, would someone have immortalized her in ink? 

Lord knows she would deserve it and more. Becca had left her mark all over those she interacted with, with a simple ‘hello’ she brands one a dear friend. She had certainly recolored Ethan’s heart. 

Becca tilted towards his solemn breaths, nudging her nose to his cheek. 

Infatuated brown met cloudy blue for the first time in minutes, seeing his handsome face for what felt like the first time. 

His long black eyelashes attached to ardently hooded lids, the aged creases around his eyes shallow and on display, his stubble accentuated his attractive jaw, his lips with the most delectable cupid's bow supple and swollen from hours of passion. Ethan Ramsey was here. In her bedroom and in her arms. Becca Lao finally had him. 

Both pairs of eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in...

Then there was a knock at her bedroom door. 

“Becca,” Sienna’s small voice called, causing the two to stay still as stone. Not even a disappointed sigh dared to escape. “We’re gonna go for Thai. Do you want anything?” 

Becca’s eyes parted slightly as she whispered to her partner, “Do you want anything?” 

Ethan still sat motionless, not wanting to be caught. The pair had yet to discuss if it would be alright for her friends to be privy to their budding relationship. 

Just as softly he whispered back, “What would you like to do?” Again, just like in the car, this wasn’t about what Ethan, it was about her. Whatever she needed or wanted he’d quickly provide. 

“Stay here forever,” she smiled. “But I’m hungry.” 

Another delicate knock on the worn wood. 

“Becca, are you awake?” Sienna’s voice was a little louder. 

“Yeah,” she called back, looking at the closed door. “Can you give me twenty mins to get ready?” 

“Bryce and Keiki are almost there. They’re gonna grab a table. I’ll wait for you if you want.” 

“No…” Becca called back, looking over at Ethan. “I’ll meet you there. Order for me?” 

“The usual?” 

“Yes please!” 

Sienna’s retreating footsteps could be heard throughout the room. Back in their bubble, Becca’s arms wrapped around Ethan’s neck as she perched on her knees, their noses almost touching. 

“Are you joining?” 

Ethan’s jaw slacked as he hesitated, torn between the aching need to keep her by his side and wanting to keep their relationship from public scrutiny, “I -” 

She cut him off. Just the look in his eyes was enough to tell her it wasn’t happening. She had to choose between her family and Ethan. 

“Right, sorry.” she visibly shook the thought away. “Forgot the implications.” 

He tilted her chin back to meet his lips. A bruising, apologetic kiss trying to convey all the reasons why. 

They needed to figure things out - all their parameters. Ethan promised outside of Edenbrook he wouldn’t hide his feelings anymore. And here they were. They couldn’t be more outside of the hospital than in her apartment… with her roommates… who work at the hospital… After their role in coming to her aide, Ethan was sure they were trustworthy but he couldn't take that gamble. He couldn’t risk her career for incessant gossip. She had a year and a half until they could surely be safe. 

Minutes after the slam of the front door, Becca and Ethan stumbled to the bathroom. They took a prolonged shower together, and then Ethan drove her around the corner to the restaurant. The two smirked at the earlier handprints marking the entire drivers side windows. 

“Sure you don’t wanna come?” she asked as he pulled up to the curb. 

Ethan’s confession from earlier was ever present, uncovered and dampening like the storm outside. Ethan Ramsey had traumatic anxiety from the assassination incident and couldn’t bear to let Becca out of his sight. He feared that if he let her go too far he wouldn’t be able to save her. Ethan knew it was an irrational fear and he couldn’t continue to live this way. Just like most things in his life, he’d have to bear it. 

He brushed a stray strand behind her ear; “I’ll be fine.”

With a chaste kiss, she hopped out of the car and darted raindrops into the restaurant. 

Driving around the corner, fully intending on going home, Ethan couldn’t shake the stinging need to be close by. _Just in case_. So, he went to Donahue’s. Some scotch and familiarity to combat the foreign feelings festering inside of him. Nervousness, liberation, anxiety and something even more terrifying… 

With every gulp he made a new vow. Every sip was a fear he swallowed and committed to overcome. 

He thought about Becca. He’s thought about nothing else for god knows how long. He thought about the last few hours and how everything has changed. He couldn’t help the fear of anticipation for what's to come. He’s still her boss. He still has to mask his feelings for her where the lines intersect with Edenbrook. 

_ Right _ ? 

He thought about immortality and wider things he didn’t pay mind to or care to understand. He thought about the things he pushed from his mind ages ago and were resurfaced with her presence. 

He thought about symbols. Her symbols.  _ Meaningful _ symbols. The little bits of ink that make her unique.

A change. 

He’s changed. 

_ She  _ changed him. 

A welcome change no matter how much of a fight he put up. 

He smiled as the last drop of scotch hit his tongue, and with it the fated image. 

*** 

Ethan laid in bed alone, staring up at the bare white ceiling and cloaked in lame lighting. The Boston skyline was no match to the warm glow of her garden apartment. Here in the unnerving silence, he wouldn’t be able to rest until she was safe in his arms once again. 

He wanted to text her. He needed to know she was fine and at home. He thought about all that could happen on her walk home - allergic reaction, mugging, rogue car crash. Anything was plausible now. Wildest dreams could come true. 

Luckily for Ethan, she decided for him: 

> **Becca:** When will I see you again? 
> 
> **Ethan:** Whenever, wherever. Remember? 
> 
> **Becca:** Breakfast? 

He couldn’t help the smile adorning his features. 

Without a second of hesitation, he called her. 

“Hello.” 

Ethan could hear her own radiant smile over the line through the soft word. He imagined her clad in her oversized hoodie and long socks, curled up in her sheets coated in their married scent. He’d never been more envious of an inanimate object before. 

Without pleasantries he retorted, “We have very different definitions of breakfast time.” 

“Pick the time. I’m always up.” 

The two couldn’t move past the sadness lacing her tone. 

“Rebecca, you need to rest.”

“I know… I can’t… you know why.”

The life had nearly been sucked from her, and with it her ability to sleep. Every single time Becca shut her eyes she was back in that isolation room watching her colleagues die. She re-lived that moment multiple times a day - the only refuge of rest she’s had was the few naps she and Sienna shared. 

Ethan had been so close to losing her. 

“I know.” He took a breath. “Me too.” 

All that could be heard on the line was their even breaths, neither wanting to elaborate or pry into the other’s torment. It was a mutual understanding. 

Becca broke the silence, “Stay on the phone until we fall asleep?” 

Ethan wanted to go get her. Bring her home and never be without her. The two protecting one another through everything else life could possibly throw their way. But Dr. Ramsey knew that would hinder both their recoveries. They couldn’t be codependent, reliant on one another. That would be detrimental to whatever longevity they foresaw. 

Ethan changed the topic, “Have your roommates taken more time off?” 

Everyone involved with the assassination attempt was graciously given a few days leave to process the event and evident loss of their dear colleagues. 

“They go back tomorrow,” she hummed as she shifted the phone between her ear and the pillow. 

“Trinh?” 

The corner’s of Becca’s lips tugged upwards at the concern in his voice for her best friend’s mental state; “Even Sienna.” 

They were silent. Neither Becca nor Ethan wanted to bring up Danny and how terribly this was affecting the tiny resident. Every time Becca looked at the forced smile plastered on Sienna’s features, a wad of guilt lodged itself in the pit of her stomach. 

As if Ethan could hear the survivor’s guilt stirring within her, he dutifully steered the conversation to lighter matters. “How was dinner?” 

“Delicious. I ate  _ so _ many noodles.” 

He pleasantly scoffed, “I’m glad your appetite is back.”

“It’s getting there.” There was rustling on the line as Becca burrowed further into her blankets. “What’d you have?” 

“Scotch and peanuts.” 

“Ethan…” she sighed. 

He knew alcohol wasn’t the answer and he’d be answering for his actions in the morning. 

Again, he steered the conversation away from heavier subjects, “What would you like for breakfast?” 

“Dunno…” she trailed “Too full of noodles to think of eating again.” 

“I’ll swing by at 10?” 

“It’s a date.” 

An unencumbered grin, one baring his bright white teeth to the void of his solitude, overtook his features. Something about that word sent his heart aflutter. 

When he didn't respond because he was too lost in his feelings, Becca redirected; “Tell me more stories?” 

“I already told you all the good ones.” 

In the isolation room as he held her, for what he prayed wouldn’t be the last time, he told her about the time he was fifteen and stole his dad’s car, and the time he and Tobias broke into the lab, and the story of the day he brought Jenner home, and how senior prom did not end as planned. 

“Nah,” she admonished playfully. “You have 37 years of stories.” 

Following up on their tryst from earlier, Becca  _ really _ wanted to ask about the first time he had sex in a car. But she bit her tongue; not wanting him to hang up, and vowing to ask for the tale in person. 

So, Ethan told her the one about him and Tobias at the tattoo shop. 

He recalled his first and only brush with the art form back in medical school. Back when he accompanied an inebriated Tobias at the local parlor. Ethan continuously relented that it was a terrible idea that his friend would come to regret. Tobias, ever the optimist, assured it was fine and “ _ vidi veni vici _ ” would never go out of style; the phrase has survived a few millennia, after all. Ethan couldn’t comprehend that kind of commitment, to a phrase or a permanent body affixation. 

Becca expelled a small chortle, “I can’t say I’m surprised you chickened out. You’re too high strung to be that impulsive.” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” 

“You’re such a commit-o-phobe,” she laughed dryly and with relegation. 

There was another reticent pause between them. 

“Would you ever consider getting one?” 

Little did she know, he did consider brandishing himself earlier that evening. Ethan thought about what  _ his _ unique marks of devotion would look like. His symbols wouldn’t be as striking as hers or anything with as much consideration. 

Following his lover's precedent, if Ethan  _ had _ to summarize the most permanent and important things in his life… well, it would really only be his dog. Or maybe a caduceus. Medicine  _ was _ everything to him. 

Ethan’s mind entertained the idea of a caduceus with double snakes - the staff of Hermes. The wrongly and widely used symbol. The staff of Hermes was used in place of the Rod of Asclepius -  _ one _ snake. Ethan knew the misconception was adopted in the past by old alchemy professionals and then accepted by ignorant Americans, branding medicine as professional and accountable. That doesn’t mean the misused symbolism doesn’t irk him to some extent. 

“Why?” he inquired.

This evening he decided what he would get if he was ever brash enough to follow through with a tattoo concept. A golden caduceus with one shake - signifying rebirth, transformation, and healing, in place of the other snake would be a dark red carnation - deep love, affection, admiration, distinction - weaving through. 

Becca all but moaned, “It’d be sexy as hell.” 

“I’m sorry, I don’t govern my whims around your libido.” 

“You should,” she teased “Your loss in the long run.” 

Ethan laughed. A true, hardy laugh. The sound was music to her ears; it’d been so long since she heard the joyous sound he reserved only for her. The proof of his unadulterated happiness. 

Once his laughter died down, Becca gnawed at a question that had been plaguing her since she got home and settled into her mind-racing loneliness. Her voice was small, reminiscent of last week when she could barely breathe; 

“Ethan… can you do me a favor?” His heart rate accelerated, terrified of what’s to come.

Without a beat he responded, “Of course.” 

By the way she hesitated, he knew she was biting that damn lip of hers. Becca made a few indistinguishable sounds as she tried, and mentally rephrased, and didn’t really know how to ask this of him…

Just when Ethan was about to tell her to spit it out, she murmured, “Can you pick up Plan B…” 

Rebecca was utterly and completely embarrassed. They’re adults, they are  _ doctors _ . They should have known better than to romp around unprotected three times in a row. 

“I - I haven’t been keeping track… with everything going on.” 

She skipped a week's worth of birth control pills while she was admitted, and keeping up hasn’t really been at the top of her priorities. With everything going on, Becca couldn’t even remember the first day of her last period; Did she even have it? Or was her stress and anxiety holding it hostage? 

This was another self-inflicted incident she didn’t need right now. It was better to be safe than... 

“I’m sorry, I should have had protection or we could have -” 

“It’s fine.” She stopped him before he could continue to outline everything else they could have done, or take full blame. “We  _ both  _ wanted it. I don’t think… I just want to be sure.” 

Ethan thought the idea of an unplanned pregnancy would have him shutting down and running in the other direction. They both knew kids were never in the cards for him, a solitary life is what Ethan Ramsey was destined for. The idea of he and Becca possibly conceiving… his chest grew warm and breathing slowed. 

With a nod of his head he solidified their morning date, “Plan B and pancakes.” 

“You can’t make pancakes,” she scrutinized. 

“How -” Ethan stopped his question midway. The only person who knew his weakness was his father. Ethan couldn’t believe his dad would let such a personal detail out of the bag the first day he met Dr. Lao. Ethan swiftly admonished, “I didn’t say I was cooking.” 

It was Rebecca’s turn to laugh. It was hollow and not as uplifting, and yet the sentiment was all Ethan needed. Held captive by her jovial giggles, he didn’t care about ethics, morals, decorum or societal expectations, all he cared about was  _ her _ . 

Maybe he was changing. Maybe he could do it - take the leap and commit to her and for her. Maybe it was about time to prove himself wrong. 

While Ethan Ramsey was currently contradicting his every notion, he leaned into this one; Opening himself up to two of the biggest lifelong commitments. 

And maybe a tattoo too. 


End file.
